


I Fall To Pieces

by rubygirl29



Category: Stargate Atlantis, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:16:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorne is stunned when his first love, Clint Barton, arrives on Atlantis as a mission specialist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Fall To Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Total AU. Go with it. Written for Lornefest and the prompt: Lorne/Barton, anything. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own neither Stargate Atlantis or the Marvel Avengers. This makes me sad.

_I fall to pieces  
Each time I see you again  
I fall to pieces  
How can I be just your friend? _ (Patsy Cline) 

John is packing to go off-world to negotiate for a new Alpha site along with Ronon, Teyla and Dr. Weir. Lorne is leaning against the wall, data pad in hand, tapping away. As John's XO, the smooth running of the mission is at the top of his agenda. Duty rosters, supplies, schedules, and the pending arrival of the _Daedalus_ are on his list for the next three days.

"Oh, we're expecting the arrival of a mission specialist, some sort of super sniper to train the Marines in nontraditional weapons and tactics. Show him the ropes, show him our ranges."

"Yes, sir."

"That's about it. You know how to contact me."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't have any wild parties, and if you take the jumper out, come home by midnight."

Lorne grins and rolls his eyes. "Yes, dad." 

John shoulders his pack. "See you in a few days." He looks happy, relaxed. Lorne is envious. He might be able to wrangle some time off after Sheppard returns, but honestly, he doesn't know what he'll do with it. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
The _Daedalus_ arrives ahead of schedule, which is a welcome surprise since it brings supplies from Earth; real coffee, sugar, chips, popcorn, hard-copy books, shampoo, nail polish, mascara, video games, magazines (yes, some of them adult), along with the necessities of a military and scientific expedition. Frankly, the little luxuries are a much-needed boost to morale. Lorne is watching the anticipation on the faces of the 'Lanteans and marking off the official deliveries. 

In addition to supplies, there are ten newbie marines and one expert sniper. Lorne is checking in the marines and assigning them to their companies when he looks up, his tongue stumbling over the words, "Specialist Clinton Francis ... Barton ...?" His face goes pale. "Clint?"

"Evan." The face is impassive, the body poised as if about to turn around and head back up the gangway. 

"Major Lorne," he corrects and sees the shutter go down behind those blue-gray eyes. "You're the tactical specialist?"

"Yes, sir. I guess I am." There is a hint of humor in his voice. 

Lorne, still feeling as if the world had dropped from beneath his feet turns to the marine corporal at his side. "Corporal Lewis, show Specialist Barton to his quarters."

"That's Agent Barton," Clint tells him. "I'm not military. I work for the government."

Lorne nods, not looking at him. "Agent Barton, there will be a mission briefing at 0600 in the conference room."

"I'm a galaxy away from Earth and there are still conference rooms," Barton shakes his head. "Go figure."

"Yeah, go figure." Lorne's voice carries an undercurrent of sarcasm. He turns to the assistant quartermaster of Atlantis. "You know where to stow the supplies?"

"Yes, sir. We'll be off-loaded in an hour. Colonel Caldwell is waiting for his sit rep."

"Here or on board?"

"On board, sir. We need a quick turnaround on this."

Lorne nods and walks away, pretending he can't feel Barton's eyes fixed on his back. Just his crappy luck to have his personal history show up and slap him upside the head. He takes a deep breath. He'll deal with that later. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The mission briefing is short and to the point. Barton is there to train marines on the latest sniper rifles and unconventional weapons. Lorne has some idea of what those weapons are given Barton's past history.

He doesn't look at Barton directly, just lets his gaze go to a point beyond his shoulder as he conducts the meeting. He hands out the training schedule to Colonel Davidson and passes a copy to Barton. The brief touch of fingertips sends his heart into overdrive. He doesn't look to see if Barton has the same reaction. 

Business finished, the dismisses the marines. Barton stays standing behind his chair. "Do you have a question, Specialist?"

"Yeah. I'd like to know why you're acting like such a dick, _sir_."

Evan looks at him for the first time. "Not here, Barton. My quarters, in an hour."

"I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

Lorne closes his eyes. "Fair enough." He takes a breath. "Dinner is usually good on the nights the _Daedalus_ brings supplies. We have a few creative chefs."

"What? No MREs?"

"Wait a few weeks. I hear our Salisbury steak is among the best." He can't help it, he smiles. It's an old joke between them. It hurts when Clint doesn't smile back, but nods and heads out the door. _Fuck,_ Lorne sighs. This is not at all what he expected when he woke up this morning.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Lorne's head is pounding by the time he gets back to his quarters; migraines are one of the after effects of dealing with too much Ancient tech -- or maybe it's not the tech this time but the sudden appearance of a ghost from the past. He rinses his face with cool water and looks at his hollow eyes in the mirror. He takes two pills and lies down with a cold compress on his forehead. He doesn't mean to fall asleep, but the pain pills and stress knock him out.

He's awakened by the soft hiss of his door opening. "What?" He's instantly awake out of habit and necessity. 

"Sorry, it's just me." Clint waves his hand over the lights and they brighten slowly. He's carrying two mugs of coffee. "Should I leave this and come back?"

Lorne scrubs a hand over his eyes. The pain pills have left him feeling foggy-brained and out of it. "No, it's okay." 

Clint sets the coffee down and hooks his foot around a chair to drag it closer to the bed. "So, what's with the 'I don't know who you are and you're not welcome here' act?"

Lorne looks at him. "They told me you were dead."

"They?"

"The colonel and some suits from the DIA when I asked if you had called in. They said your chopper had crashed in the mountains and there were no survivors." He can't keep the dragging pain from his voice. "I didn't want to believe it. I kept dreaming you were alive, suffering, a POW." The words are bitter in his mouth. "They sent me to psych to be treated for PTSD!" 

Clint's eyes are dark. "It was true. They thought I _was_ dead."

"But here you are, alive. So, how the fuck did that happen? One day you just walked back to Bagram?"

"I wish," Clint sighs. "Your dreams weren't so far off. My chopper did crash. I was alive, injured. An Afghan warlord held me prisoner for three weeks until he decided I was a liability. They were about to put me out of my misery when a Ranger team came in like the cavalry and wiped them out."

"And?"

Clint fiddles with his cuffs; he has long, nervous fingers. Lorne recalls too well the feel of them moving across his skin. "While I was in rehab, I got a visit from ... from an agent with a government agency. I wouldn't be returned to active duty, but he had an offer I might find intriguing. The only requisite was that nobody could know I hadn't been killed in the crash."

Lorne feels a flush of anger and betrayal on his face. "Was it that easy to walk away from me?"

"No! Evan, listen. I asked about you. They said you were stateside, in a special training program for fighter pilots. I know how much you wanted that. You talked about Top Gun like you talk about a lover." He stops talking and Lorne sees the reality kick in. "Holy shit, Evan. It wasn't Top Gun, it was this ... the Stargate program!"

"I would have given it up for you."

"I couldn't expect you to do that. I was in bad shape, Evan. I never wanted to be the reason you gave up something you truly wanted. So, when Phil --"

"Phil?"

Clint's ears turn red. "The agent who recruited me."

Lorne has to smile. "The one who makes you blush?"

Clint doesn't meet his eyes. "He's my handler, my boss. There isn't anything there."

"But you want there to be?" Lorne watches Clint move from denial to acceptance to want, and remembers when that look was for him, only. "It's okay. We move on."

"Have you?"

Lorne can't lie. "I'm trying, but you're not so easy to get over. I saw you on the pier and I just lost it ... "

"Phil ... he doesn't know. He's dating a cellist. He's ... he's Phil's type." Clint sounds less than certain. "I'm not. I'm just a carny who has a skill set he can use." 

Lorne holds out his hands and takes Clint's. "You've never been just a carny and you know it. Not to me, not ever." Clint leans in and their lips touch lightly. Back in the day, they would have been stumbling to the bed, but there is no immediate spark, no flame, just the bittersweet yearning for times past. Lorne tries to keep his voice steady. "I always thought I'd fall to pieces if I ever saw you again."

"You're still in one piece," Clint says. "Looks like we'll have to settle for friendship this time around." He stands up, releases Lorne's hands. "I have an early call at the range," he says.

Evan slides his arm around Clint's hard waist and pulls him close. "Can we try again?"

Clint raises a brow, but he doesn't fight. He yields and this time the kiss is deeper, sweeter and Lorne is shaking when they part. Clint's cheeks are stained with a flush. He runs his palms up Lorne's arms. "Is this a good idea?"

"Hell, no," Lorne whispers against his ear, "but it's the only one I've got." 

This time, they do make it to the bed and Clint is stretched over Evan, those strong, calloused fingers playing over his skin, his perfect mouth softened with a smile as he leans in, pressing their bodies close. Evan can't help the harsh gasp of need as Clint slides his palms under Lorne's shirt. It takes no effort at all for him to strip it off. The air is cool, Clint's hands are warm. His body is warm against Evan's; he recalls the feeling of warm sand beneath him and Clint's heat over him. 

Clint's breath warms his skin. His fingers work at the button and zipper on Lorne's fatigues. "Wait," Lorne manages to gasp. "I'm not doing this alone." He pushes Clint away and sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He manages to unlace his boots despite his shaking fingers, toes them off and takes off his socks. Clint is mirroring his actions. When they're stripped down to skin, Clint pulls him back down to the bed. 

"God, you're still beautiful."

Evan blushes at that, because he never sees himself that way. He looks at Clint's body. His arms are amazing. He runs a finger along the curve of muscle. "That's some serious working out you've been doing, Barton."

"A fifty-pound draw will do that to you -- ."

Lorne traces across his clavicle, touches the scar just above his breast. "Bullet?"

"Spent, for the most part," Clint says. He touches the scar on Lorne's hairline. "You're not unmarked."

"I wouldn't be much of a soldier if I was." He kisses Clint's scar. There are other, older marks on Clint's body that Evan doesn't know the story of, that Clint deflects curiosity about with a wisecrack or a kiss. Evan doesn't ask again. Instead, he maps the new scars. "Damn, Clint. You need to stop throwing yourself off buildings or something."

"Or something," Clint agrees, but his eyes have a faraway look that Evan can't interpret. He shakes off the darkness and wraps his arms around Evan. "I miss you. I miss ... this."

"We can't go back to what we were," Lorne says regretfully. 

"I know that." Clint moves and his cock slips agains Evan's. "Still, we can have this." There is desperation and need in Clint's voice. The emotions crash through Evan and he tosses his regrets and reservations to the wind. There is too much sweetness in Clint's lovemaking, too much heat and too much remembered skill. 

Evan fumbles in his nightstand for lube and a condom. "Here," he gasps as Clint slides a thumb over his slick glans. Clint's eyes glitter as he takes the condom and lube and preps himself, rolling the condom slowly over his shaft, watching Evan's reaction to the tease. 

He coats his palms and fingers, slicks Evan's cock and pumps him until he can't keep his hips from thrusting against Clint's palm. "Fuck," he moans, "you're so good."

Clint grins and his finger teases Evan's anus, pressing against the opening, but not breaching him, rubbing lightly as he takes Evan in his mouth. Evan raises his head, entranced by the sight of Clint's perfect lips on his cock. He thrusts his hands into Clint's thick, short hair, tugs him up for a deep kiss even as Clint's finger slides into his body and finds that perfect spot that wrenches a sob of ecstasy from him. 

"I like that," Clint whispers against his lips. "I like that sound." He repeats the action and Lorne thinks he's lit up like fireworks inside. It doesn't take much for his muscles to yield and loosen when Clint works in two more fingers. He brushes Lorne's hair back, takes his lips and catches his cry as he pushes into his body. 

Three strong thrusts against Lorne's prostate and he comes, warm semen spilling over Clint's hand and his belly. The heat is all Clint needs to climax. It's hard and heavy and sweet in Evan's back and thighs. He doesn't want Clint to pull away, but eventually his breathing calms and his cock softens. Clint reaches down and takes the condom off, pitching in unerringly into a waste basket. 

Lorne chuckles softly. "Ever the marksman."

"Did I hit my target?" he nuzzles into Evan's hair.

"Dead center."

"I aim to please."

"God, shut up and let me enjoy the afterglow, okay?"

Clint does, pulling Evan into his arms and resting his chin on top of his head. They take their time, finally crawling from the bed and into the bathroom for a shower. It's tight quarters, but the closeness prolongs the pleasure of skin against skin, the slip of palms over muscles, the sweet taste of fresh water and clean skin. They dry off and dress reluctantly. Evan rests his hands on Clint's waist. "So what happens next?"

Clint shakes his head. "I train your marines. Then I get on the _Daedalus_ and go home."

"Where is home?" Lorne asks, curiosity warring with reluctance.

"New York." 

"You should tell Phil how you feel." The words are slow and heavy in his mouth, but he has to say them. 

"Someday." He sighs. "What about you?"

Lorne shakes his head. To his despair, it's like the hour they spent making love never happened. 

Clint kisses him gently. "Hey, we're still good together, but being together just isn't in our cards. So, we go on, right? At least I'm not dead."

Lorne's lips twitch. "You're a son of a bitch to let me think you were."

"Wasn't my call." 

"Damn, I know that now," Lorne sighs. "Let's get coffee. Okay?"

Clint finds a table while Lorne goes to get their coffee. As he's waiting, David Parrish, a young botanist, starts up a conversation about some sort of plant. Lorne smiles at his enthusiasm, and notices that he has very nice eyes. He's never noticed before.

He carries the mugs over to the table where Clint is smirking at him. "What?"

"That guy was totally checking you out."

"Parrish?" Lorne tries not to blush. "He's a botanist."

"So that means he's dead?"

"No! He's just not my type."

"Babe, ya gotta give the guy a chance. He's got a cute ass." Clint's expression is wicked, and Evan laughs. 

"Okay, okay. But you have to give your Phil he same chance. How's his ass, by the way?"

"Perfect," Clint sighs. "And he wears Dolce suits."

His chagrin makes Evan laugh. "You've got it bad." Before Clint has a chance to give him a snarky retort, Lorne is paged to the gate room. He gives Clint a wry smile. "Damn. I'll be back. Don't leave."

"Um, I have to go to the range and teach some marines, remember?"

"I'll see you when I get back."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

It isn't going to happen. While Lorne is off-world the _Daedalus_ is called back to Earth. Clint is on board and halfway home by the time Lorne returns. Weary and worn, feeling very much alone, he returns to his empty quarters. There is an envelope on his desk. Clint's sharp, clean script is unmistakeable. Evan takes a deep breath and starts reading:

_Evan, it looks like Fate is a cruel bitch calling me back to Earth while you're away. Maybe it's easier that way, but I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say good-bye. Being with you again was the best thing that's happened to me since ... well, since I met Phil. I'll take your advice to heart. Who knows, maybe he'll fall for a different kind of bow, right?_

_I had a chance to talk to your botanist, David. He seems like a great guy -- smart and funny. Bet you didn't know he's got a wicked sense of humor. You should take the time to find out for yourself. And, Evan, yeah, he's kind of hot in a nerdy way. Just your type, like I never was, not really. We're too much alike to be happy for long._

_I'd tell you to look me up when you're in New York, but I can't. What I do is just as 'eyes only' as your job is, so let's just move on and be happy. I want you to be happy in your city in the sky, and I'll do the same in this place, okay? They've found falcons nesting in the skyscrapers, so I'm not alone._

_Always,  
Hawkeye_

Sometimes it hurts to smile, but Evan can't help it. Clint has picked up the pieces of his shattered past and moved on, Evan can't do any less. He folds the letter carefully and puts it with his favorite pictures of his family. There is one picture of two young men in fatigues, their arms thrown carelessly around each other's shoulders, grinning at the camera. 

Evan closes the keepsake box and cleans up. He goes to the botany lab. David Parrish is squinting through a microscope. His hair is mussed and he looks tired. Evan opens the door. "Hey, doc. How about a cup of coffee?" The look on Parrish's face is priceless.

The world doesn't end. He doesn't fall to pieces. Instead, he starts a new life in a new world. 

**The End**


End file.
